


A Revolutionary's Guide to Love and Clumsiness

by Aspireeverything



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smitten, Wooing, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aspireeverything/pseuds/Aspireeverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has a sudden realization that he does in fact love Grantaire. In his own Enjolras-like way, he attempts to woo a seemingly unsuspecting Grantaire using a bunch of plans that seem to backfire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Revolutionary's Guide to Love and Clumsiness

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspiration from Broadway's "Gentlemen's Guide to Love and Murder", but certainly not the premise.
> 
> If there are ANY errors please inform me and I'll correct them right away!
> 
> I hope you enjoy and any feedback would be well appreciated!

It took a long time, but finally the realization dawned on him.

Months of headaches, manically flying butterflies in his stomach, and a lot of nonsensical drunk crying on Combeferre’s and Courferyac’s shoulders had finally come to make sense.

Enjolras was head over heels, over the moon, from Mars and back, in love with Grantaire.

With that finally figured out, all he had to do was woo him.

Even though Enjolras was known for being a radical, outspoken, convincing leader, he somehow always got so tongue tied and red in the face whenever he tried so much as to ask Grantaire how his day was going. It was embarrassing to say the least.

Now all he needed was a plan.

A _good_ plan.

A plan with a lot of other back up plans in case plan A didn’t work out too well, which knowing Enjolras’s past clumsiness around Grantaire, was bound to happen.

After hours of watching grossly romantic films along with a long conversation with Jehan about how much he really enjoyed the blue-green color of Grantaire’s eyes that reminded him so much of a summer day in a meadow with flowers growing in patches with the sky just the right shade of blue and white, fluffy clouds placed thoughtfully in that sky, as well pouring over a couple of books he had found in Courf’s bookshelf that he paired very nicely with cup after cup of overly sweetened coffee, he was ready.

There was a plan, along with back up plans that poor little, love-struck Enjolras was sure would woo Grantaire.

At least he hoped.

 

**Original Plan:**

The original plan, as Enjolras so creatively named it, involved getting Grantaire over to his apartment so he could so romantically cook dinner for him and they would laugh under the flicker of scented candles as night slowly and surely turned into day.

Only, there was one issue that Enjolras somehow overlooked. (So did Courferyac who looked over his original plan and thought that this was the perfect time to get a hilarious story thus he refrained from correcting him and sent him on his merry way.)

Enjolras, like any other single, college male, lived off of ramen noodles, coffee, frozen dinners, coffee, the occasional alcoholic drink, coffee, and of course, coffee. He was never much of a cook, something obviously indicated by his almost empty fridge and the spider web forming in the corner of his kitchen cabinet.

What made him think that a romantic home cooked meal created by him was a good idea? He couldn’t figure out. He blamed it on his mind being fogged up by love and the minimal amount of sleep he usually ran on.

Nonetheless, he had convinced an unsuspecting Grantaire over and he was seated on Enjolras’s couch, waiting for the meal Enjorlas had so lavishly talked up to be served. It was the sudden onset of the smell of smoke that raised red flags in Grantaire’s head, but it was Enjolras’s very out of character, high-pitched scream that sent Grantaire running into the kitchen. Once he entered the smoke filled kitchen he saw Enjolras frantically opening up the kitchen window so that the smoke being emitted from the pan, of what he assumed was very far gone, burnt chicken, wouldn’t set off the smoke detectors.

But of course, there wouldn’t be such luck in this very unfortunate situation. The fire alarm set off, a loud shriek filling up the apartment building.

Grantaire rushed over, grabbed the pan, and stuck it under the faucet, letting the sizzle noise as the water hit the pan settle before he turned the water off. He looked over at Enjolras whose blond, curled hair was now sticking up all the over the place, some pieces slicked down to his forehead from sweat, eyes wide, and the sleeves of his red plaid shirt were rolled up.

“You could have just been a normal person and ordered take out,” Grantaire grabbed a towel from the counter and began swatting at the fire alarm, hoping to everything holy that it would just stop screeching. It only took a couple of more minutes for the fire department to arrive, try their best to not laugh at the failure that was Enjolras’s cooking, and to allow people safely back into the building.

It was safe to say that the Original Plan had failed terribly.

 

**Plan B:**

Enjolras slapped a piece of paper down on Combeferre’s desk, startling him a bit before he looked up from his work over his glasses at a very determined Enjolras and asked, “What’s this?”

“Plan B,” Enjolras stated simply.

Combeferre raised his eyebrows a bit before sighing and reading the flyer that had disturbed his work time.

Enjolras had worked hard to come up with the idea and this time, for sure, there would be no cooking involved. He didn’t need another lecture from the fire department about the importance of reading cooking directions carefully and keeping a fire extinguisher in the house. He was also certain that he didn’t want Courferyac’s hand in any of his plans. Why he asked Courferyac in the first place? Another question Enjolras didn’t have an answer to.

“An art exhibit?” Combeferre questioned, the confusion obvious in his tone. “You don’t know anything about art.”

“Yes, but Grantaire loves art and I want Grantaire to love me,” he crossed his arms. “Plus there’s a new indoor garden they added to the building with artwork inside of it. Romantic, thought provoking, and nice smelling. What more could you ask for?” He had a smug smile on his face. There wasn’t any way possible that this plan could go wrong.

“Alright, but don’t make an ass of yourself in public,” Combeferre handed him back the flyer explaining the location of the exhibit along with the date and times.

“Of course mother dearest,” Enjolras laughed as he exited the room. Combeferre rolled his eyes and returned to his work with a small grin on his face.

***

Combeferre was right, as _always_.

Enjolras didn’t know anything about art and it only became more and more apparent as they moved through the exhibit. He only ever stared at each piece, his head slightly tilted to the right, his eyes squinted, his eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t understand the abstract pieces or the impressionism or the difference between realism and painterly or anything else, but he enjoyed the gleam in Grantaire’s eyes as he explained to Enjorlas the purpose of each stroke or the story the pieces told. He was full of life and joy and that’s what he wanted.

“There’s a garden on the top floor if you want to go look at that,” Enjolras suggested as they passed the stairs leading to different levels, some with sculptures, others with things hanging off the ceiling, another with everything made of glass, one floor specifically for photography.

“Sure that sounds great,” they moved up the stairs and entered the garden.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass roof, touching each corner of the room, illuminating the beauty of the softness of each strategically placed flower. A small cobblestone path weaved through the garden, the sound of the fountain in the middle grew louder as they walked through the path, shoulder to shoulder as flowers grazed their feet or taller planets lightly kissed the sides of their faces. Sculptures were placed in beds of flowers, the plaques that stated the artist’s names and the name of piece glistened from the bright sunlight.

“This is really breath taking,” Grantaire smiled, taking in his surroundings and allowing the calming feeling to rush through his body. Their hands grazed slightly as they continued walking, only making the urge to lace their fingers together stronger in Enjolras, but he refrained, not wanting to suddenly make things strange or uncomfortable. He was content with being shoulder to shoulder, sometimes accidentally bumping into each other as the narrow path winded.

The garden wasn’t as full as Enjolras had expected, a handful of people were spread out throughout openings in the garden, some already exiting, and some sitting in benches hidden away by some of the taller planets, only making it all that more perfect for Enjolras to say what he needed to say. They came across a bench and Enjolras suggested they sit for a while to rest and they did just that.

“So what made you suddenly so interested in art?” Grantaire inquired, giving a side glace to Enjolras.

“Feuilly passively mentioned it at the last meeting and it sounded interesting so I thought who better to come and see it with than you,” he answered nonchalantly, his heart rate speeding up a bit, but his face kept the usual composure it usually did.

Grantaire only hummed in reply, nodding his head a bit.

“Actually…” Enjolras started, but then there it was. It was too late, his face was already turned towards Grantaire’s and now Grantaire’s face was turned towards him and then

“ _AH-CHOO._ ”

A sneeze came out of nowhere.

No forewarning, nothing.

And who to be at the receiving end, but now wide mouthed, shut eyed, Grantaire. He visibly cringed before rising off the bench and wiping at his face with the too long sleeve of his flannel before removing it and stuffing it into his messenger bag that now slung across the plain grey t-shirt he was wearing under the flannel.

“ _I am so sorry_ ,” Enjolras whispered, his arms slightly stretched forward, but not daring to touch Grantaire.

He had done enough damage.

“It came out of nowhere, I wouldn’t sneeze on you on purpose I swear to God,” he began rambling only to be stopped with a light hand placed on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he removed his hand, Enjorlas immediately missing the warm pressure on his bony shoulder. “Bahorel has thrown up on me before after a very reckless night of drinking so I’ve seen worse.” He gave a small, reassuring laugh before continuing. “But it’s starting to get late and I have an evening shift today so I’ll catch you later after I apply copious loads of hand sanitizer to my face.” Grantaire gave a soft laugh and Enjolras’s shoulder a soft touch before walking down the end of the path and exiting.

Enjolras only groaned and placed his head in his hands as his arms rested on his knees.

He would never be able to live this one down.

 

**Plan C:**

This plan gone seriously array involved Grantaire’s cat.

How it happened?

Grantaire didn’t want to know as he closed the bathroom door to a soaked, scratch covered Enjolras, his newly shaven cat in his lap, a bathtub almost overfilling with suds and what seemed to be cold water, and a fish tank so precariously placed on the top of the toilet.

He didn’t think he’d ever be mentally ready for _that_ story.

**Plan D:**

A guitar. A button down white shirt with suspenders and a bowtie. And Courferyac.

“Serenade him,” Courferyac suggested eagerly. After hours of incessant begging, Enjolras had finally allowed Courf to pitch him a plan that was ‘sure to make him drop his pants right then and there’. To be honest, he was more curious than actually willing to go along with whatever spewed out of Courf’s mouth.

It included showing up to Grantaire’s doorstep and singing him some sappy love song that played almost on repeat on every radio station. Enjolras didn’t even make it out the door in the getup Courferyac had tackled him into wearing.

Instead, he immediately turned around, placed the guitar slung across his body down, slapped Courferyac upside the head, and went to his room to work on items related to an upcoming rally. He had already sneezed on him, he didn’t need Grantaire thinking he was a total creep.

 

**Plan E:**

A study session!

A completely (kind of) fool proof (if that fool wasn’t Enjolras) plan!

But if one can already guess using the prior plans as an example, Plan E didn’t quite work out as intended.

Grantaire and Enjolras didn’t actually have any classes together, being that Grantaire was an art major and Enjolras dabbled in anything from law to psychology, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t sit in Enjolras’s apartment and enjoy each other’s company as they worked on their respective assignments.

They worked for an hour, Grantaire occasionally hummed a tune Enjolras wasn’t familiar with as he scribbled away at his sketchbook. He had a tendency to make faces at his work, whether they were delighted or just frustrated, Enjolras found them endearing and couldn’t help but glance up every once in a while to see Grantaire pull a face. Enjolras mindlessly tapped his pen at the edge of his textbook as he read through the rather boring text, only finding some gleam of joy every time he looked up and saw Grantaire having his tongue sticking out in thought or his eyebrows furrowed.

“Take a picture Apollo, it lasts longer,” Grantaire teased, not looking up from his work. Enjolras immediately felt a blush crawl onto his usually pale cheeks, he had to admit he wasn’t exactly being subtle about glancing up almost every five minutes. Grantaire’s eyes moved towards Enjolras’s for a split second before he let out a small laugh and returned to his work. “I’m just kidding, stare as much as you’d like. I know I’m just that enthralling to you.” Those words only made the blush go redder, almost matching the beanie placed on Enjolras’s head. Grantaire laughed again, obviously knowing what his words had caused. _That asshole._

Enjolras only buried his head back into his textbook and tried his best to focus back on his work, but of course, snuck small peeks at Grantaire as another comfortable hour passed by, only being filled by occasional small talk and the tap tap tapping of Enjolras’s pen and the light hum of Grantaire’s voice.

***

Somehow, someway, things took the turn for the worst and well, the slightly painful.

That somehow was a study session turned into a guitar hero match.

That someway was Grantaire slipping off Enjolras’s couch during a very intense guitar solo while Enjorlas, the man with very unlucky timing, had randomly broken out into a gushing nosebleed.

 _Stupid dry weather_ , Enjolras had cursed in his head the second it happened.

Grantaire’s torso laid on the ground, his arms sprawled in defeat, his head directly next to one leg of Enjolras’s coffee table while his skinny jean covered legs were still on the couch, his feet pointed in the air. Enjolras on the other hand was standing above him, one hand covering his still bleeding nose while the other helping an also bleeding Grantaire up.

“I’m going to call Joly,” Enjolras’s voice muffled and little more nasal sounding as he kept a tissue clamped over his nose to attempt to stop the blood from flowing down his face and onto his shirt.

“You do that,” Grantaire kept pressure on the cut on his cheek that had unfortunately hit the side of the wooden coffee table during the rather strange turn of events.

Joly arrived out of breath 10 minutes after Enjorlas had called him and immediately patched up Grantaire’s face. Enjorlas could have sworn that Joly was going to pass out from laughing so hard as he explained what had occurred. He was wiping away tears from under his eyes and trying his best to catch his breath as little spurts of giggles escaped his lips. “You two are too much for me to handle. Wait until the others hear about this,” Joly still through small bursts of laughter had already pulled out his phone and started a group message informing the rest of Les Amis what had happened.

Before Grantaire or Enjolras could stop him the message was sent and two all too familiar text tone dings went off in the apartment, only to be followed two minutes later by almost every Amis responding to the story, all of which explaining how hard they were laughing.

Enjolras tried his best not to throw his phone out the window and Grantaire only plopped back down on the couch and let his head fall back while letting out a sigh, one that signified defeat and acceptance of said defeat.

Their friends were the worst.

 

**The Final Plan:**

Enjolras thought that even though he didn’t know how to cook actual consumable meals didn’t mean that he couldn’t bake something simple.

So baking it was.

It started out well, Grantaire who refused to let Enjolras in the kitchen without supervision was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping at a cup of tea, mindlessly watching Enjolras move around in the kitchen. He looked determined and concentrated as he measured sugar and vanilla as precisely as he could before pouring it into the bowl and moving onto cracking eggs and measuring the milk. “I’m shocked that nothing has spontaneously combusted yet,” Grantaire got up from the table and moved so he could lean against the counter as Enjorlas worked, a smile plastered on his face as he teased.

“Very fun,” Enjolras laughed, moving a piece of curled hair away from his eyes, returning the smile. There was silence for a while as Enjolras continued to measure ingredients and throwing them into the glass bowl.

“What’s with you lately?” Grantaire started, causing Enjolras to stop spooning out flour into a measuring cup. “What’s with all these random little hang outs that somehow turn into disasters? Why do you suddenly want to be around me all the time? I was fairly certain that you weren’t that fond of me before all this hanging out happened to be honest,” his attention was turned from the cooling mug of tea placed firmly in his hands to Enjolras, who was still staring at the cup halfway filled with flour.

“Hey, Apollo,” Grantaire grabbed a pinch of flour from the glass container where he stored it and lightly tossed it in Enjolras’s direction. A light dusting of flour covered his head, sticking to the side of his red beanie that was attempting to contain his wild curls and also to the side of his face.

“What was that for?” he yelled, trying his best to dust off the white powder.

“I was trying to get you back down to planet Earth,” his eyebrow cocked upwards. “Welcome back.” An even wider, toothier smile spread across his face, the playful taunting even more obvious.

“A simple ‘Hey Enjolras’ and a slap on the arm would have sufficed,” Enjolras retaliated by taking a handful of flour and dumping it on top of Grantaire’s inky, curled hair.

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open in shock before he set down his mug that now with flour floating on the top. There was a glint of something unrecognizable in Grantaire’s eyes that caused Enjolras’s own blue eyes to widen a bit as he slowly backed up in fear of what wrath Grantaire was to release. “You are so going to regret that,” Grantaire moved towards with predatory ease and steadiness only making Enjolras look more like prey ready to be attacked, a crooked smile plastered on his face making it only that much more fear inducing. Enjolras found it all strangely… attractive.

Not necessarily a thought he would have liked to be having in the situation because _wow_ his jeans were starting to feel a little bit tight.

As Grantaire passed the container of flour, he grabbed a handful of the white dust before skillfully grabbing Enjolras as he almost escaped out the kitchen and slapping it and rubbing it onto his golden colored head. In the process, Enjorlas’s flour covered beanie had fallen off his head and onto the kitchen floor allowing for more flour to be rubbed into his curls.

He tried his best to escape Grantaire’s grip, but Grantaire was stronger, probably caused by weekly boxing lessons and early morning runs. “Get off!” Enjolras laughed as he struggled to get out of the hold.

Before he even realized it, he was pinned against the counter, his hands grabbing the edge of the countertop and were being held their by Grantaire’s hands. He was suffocatingly close, close enough that Enjolras could smell his cologne and the paints he so often used and strangely a bit of vanilla as well.

“You’re such an idiot,” Grantaire’s was voice low, his blue-green eyes piercing into Enjolras’s soul. “I mean you’ve always been an idiot in your own right, but the last two weeks have been a new level of idiocy,” a smirk danced on his lips, only making it harder for Enjolras to stop himself from closing the distance between their mouths. Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hands and stepped back a few paces before stuffing his hands in his pockets, the smirk still apparent. Enjolras stayed where he was, but let go of a large breath, one he didn’t realize he had been holding in.

“What do you mean?” he finally managed after trying his best to subtly catch his breath.

“You didn’t think I would realize what you’ve been trying to do?” his eyebrows were raised, the unrecognizable glint from before still in his eyes.

“What is it that I’ve been trying to do?” Enjolras asked carefully. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions and ruin what he had been working to try to achieve, it was entirely possibly Grantaire was speaking about something entirely different.

“In your own strange Enjolras-like way, you’ve been trying to woo me.” Enjolras’s breath hitched and his eyes widened. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out my dear Apollo,” Grantaire removed his hands from his pockets. “You don’t just randomly try to cook me dinner, or take me to an art exhibit, something I know you don’t have any interest in, or glance up at me every five minutes when you think I won’t notice, or try to bake me something, or-“

“Or almost go and serenade you,” Enjolras broke his trance and gave an awkward smile.

“Almost _what?_ ” Grantaire’s mouth gaped at the very thought of Enjolras attempting to serenade him. Now that was something he would pay to see.

“It was Courferyac’s idea, but I was smart enough to realize that that might have been a little too weird and forward,” Enjolras shook his head as Grantaire laughed. “So if you knew, why didn’t you say anything?” Enjolras asked after Grantaire finished laughing at the idiotic plan Courf almost convinced Enjolras of doing.

“Because I was curious to see what you would come up with next. It’s not every day our fearless leader makes a fool of himself while trying to woo me. How could I not enjoy every moment?” Grantaire moved closer. “You couldn’t have just been a normal person and asked me out instead of going all romantic comedy on me?”

“I’m just the king of dumb ideas aren’t I?” Enjolras breath became shallower and his voice quieter as Grantaire came closer and closer, this time his hands placed firmly at his sides.

“Yes, but the sentiment from each one is greatly appreciated,” the toes of Grantaire’s shoes were touching the tips of Enjolras’s socked feet, their faces close. “Just so you know, I have been in love with you since the day I first saw you. No wooing was ever needed.”

“That would have been great to know about six plans go,” Enjolras’s eyes moved up and down Grantaire’s face, taking in each wonderful feature.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Grantaire grabbed the collar of Enjolras’s and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together causing Enjolras to melt at the sudden connection.

Grantaire pulled away, “Doing this would have worked just fine.” Their noses still touching, his hand still grasping the fabric of Enjolras’s shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s waist before closing the distance once again and allowing himself to enjoy the fact that Grantaire was right in front of him and he was finally able to act on a whim he had pushed away for a long time.

***

“So you didn’t end up serenading him at all?” Courferyac pouted as he slid onto the couch next to Combeferre.

“No serenade was needed, I think he made a fool of himself enough with the rest of his brilliant plans,” Grantaire chin rested on top of Enjolras’s head as he played with the curls at the nape of his neck. They sat together on the arm chair next to the couch, their feet propped on the coffee table as they stayed comfortably intertwined in each other’s arms.

“I wouldn’t have had to make a fool of myself if you had just told me you knew all along,” the playful pout obvious in Enjolras’s voice.

“Like I said,” Grantaire planted a light kiss on Enjolras’s forehead. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re such an ass,” Enjolras smiled as he planted his lips lightly onto Grantaire’s, keeping the smile as their lips connected.

“Get a room,” Courferyac groaned as he threw a handful of popcorn at the newly formed couple.

“They’re finally together, let them enjoy it,” Combeferre stuffed a handful of popcorn into Courferyac’s mouth before he had a chance to protest causing laughter to fill the room by the other two boys.

“Fine,” Courf said after angrily chewing the forcefully fed popcorn. “But I swear to God if I catch them fucking anywhere I think I might have to strangle them.” Combeferre only rolled his eyes.

“The fact that we’re getting laid and you’re not isn’t something to be jealous about my dear Courf,” Grantaire threw back stray pieces of popcorn at Courferyac only to be high-fived by a very comfortable Enjolras.

The stray pieces of popcorn unleashed an all out war resulting in a broken glass, a tipped over arm chair used as a shield, and a soaked, but laughing Combeferre.

Laughter emitted from the small, now not so single, university attending male’s apartment and would continue until the early hours of the morning.


End file.
